Damsel met Distress in a dimly lit alley,

Pawing feverishly at unclad skin.

Lips interlocked like thorns to the roses stem—

Their eyes, lustful and hungry.

He slipped her a poisoned tongue.

She consumed every last bit of oxygen it took to inflate her lungs into balloons.

A scream died on her tongue—

The one who was meant to break the spell

Couldn’t live up to his promises.

She served him herself on a silver platter,

Heart seared medium-rare,

Love still pumping through it.

He rode in on the white horse like a stereotype,

Savior complex radiating a nuclear ego.

She was a mess before he came along,

Waiting for the inevitable downfall of her hopes,

Dreams crushed under the weight of failed compromise.

She’d have everything to lose

And nothing to gain except imprisonment to a one-sided love affair.

The curse was never the slumber—

It was the sinking realization that she’d never truly be free.